


Relfections

by Morgeil



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-10
Updated: 2006-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgeil/pseuds/Morgeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian/Barbara one-shots - mostly introspective - written between 2003 and 2006, re-posted here for your pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aztec Cutaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title illustrates, a post-ep to "The Aztecs".

"Please leave me alone, Ian."

Barbara's quiet voice cut across the awkward silence of the room. I stopped at the door, suddenly feeling guilty that I had ventured in at all. So I remained in the threshold, mug of tea in hand and pondered what to do.

The bedroom Susan and Barbara shared in the ship was darkened and I could barely make out my companion's silhouette laying on one of the mats. I noticed that she hadn't yet changed clothes and still wore the elegant Aztec dress bestowed to her in recent events. I felt for a switch located in the wall. The light flickered on, making Barbara's form fully visible enough see her tousled hair and red eyes.

As I approached the bed, she sat up abruptly.

"I thought I told you not…"

I hushed her by simply putting my finger to her lips and gave her the steaming mug. She held it quietly, staring into the liquid but not drinking. She made no further complaint about my presence, so I sat down next to her.

"It's going to get cold, Barbara."

This seemed to bring her to reality. She mumbled a soft apology and took at sip. I waited.

"I still don't understand," she said at last after a long moment. Her voice was barely audible and cracked slightly. "I tried. I tried so hard and…"

"It was a big task," I interrupted quietly. "History or no history, you couldn't have done it by yourself."

"The Doctor said…"

"The Doctor says a lot of things. Some out of anger and most out of genuine intelligence. I don't take all of his views of Earth history to heart, but he was right this time."

"I wanted the best for them."

"I know."

"They were an amazing people, I wanted them to survive."

"It was a whole culture, Barbara. You couldn't have changed it over night. One man, yes. But the entire civilization…" I immediately regretted my words as I saw a sharp look of pain cross her face. She turned from me and set the mug down on a table beside the bed. Her back quivered as she quietly began to sob.

"Autloc…"

I reached out and pulled her against me, saying nothing and rubbing her shoulder gently to provide comfort. It disheartened me when she didn't respond, which to an extent proved the scope of her grief.

How much time passed, I am not certain. I was occupied with my own thoughts and regrets concerning our tragic days spent in 15th century Mexico. Several vivid images swam before me: Ixta's sneering face, Tloxol's words of hatred and the last, horrific memory of a knife joining innocent flesh before a closing stone door sealed it from my eyes.  
\--

I closed the door to Barbara and Susan's room quietly behind me, discouraged that I hadn't been more help. With a dejected sigh, I straightened my clothes and prepared to leave the corridor before-

"And where have you been, young man?"

I felt my body stiffen as I turned and met a pair of amused brown eyes. How that man could creep upon one so silently, I'll never know.

"Just checking on Barbara."

"So I see," he chuckled in reply.

I knew he was just baiting me for my reaction, but I felt my face heat up anyway. I suppose that made us even after my "Congratulations" quip concerning Cameca. I was in no mood for humor, however. He seemed to take the hint for he pursued the subject no more.

"Chesterton," he spoke suddenly, stopping me as I was turning to leave. "In all sincerity, I think you should leave her be."

"She needs our support, Doctor. Now more than ever."

"Oh, I quite agree. But you can't solve all her problems with just you affection, my boy."

"But…"

"Let it go for now, Ian. She works through these things in own her way, just as you do yours. There might come a time where your affection won't be enough."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked incredulously, but he was already walking away. I stared after him, wondering what was going through his head. As usual.


	2. And the Greatest of These Is...

_"Everyone is mistaken about me, you know..."_

 

She was uncomfortable with slipping into his room unannounced. Though it really couldn't be helped, as she had become so attuned to his moods over time. It was inevitable really, due to the circumstances. Same species, same planet, same time period, same experiences... of course a bond would be created. It was only natural. She couldn't blame those who jumped to conclusions about their relationship as they watched the two of them interact. If she was in their place, she would assume the same thing.

Her intuition had always been one of her strong points and life within the Ship only seemed to strengthen it. She sometimes felt as though the TARDIS itself was helping her, guiding her... leading her passively to the answers she sought, to the people who needed her. It was an irrational and silly explanation, of course. It was only a machine.

Well, to hell with it. There were occasions when she preferred the irrational. In the life she led now, sometimes the irrational was the only thing that helped her cope. At least it went some way into explaining how she was always there at the right time. How she always knew when he was suffering.

 

 _"I'm always regarded as the strong one. Reliable. Dependable. Stalwart Ian, always there to save the day..."_

 

She approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to wake him from his fitful, violent sleep. His body was spread across the long, dark cushion of the cot, twitching every few seconds in a frightful manner. One of his arms hung over the edge of the mattress, clenching and unclenching convulsively.

Few people knew Ian Chesterton had nightmares. But then again, few people knew Ian well enough to realize he feared anything at all. He was always dashing about from place to place, not allowing his worries to overcome him when his speed and resourcefulness were required. Susan, Vicki, even the Doctor... they had all come to look upon him as their rock, the reliable anchor and backbone of the crew. The one that everyone could trust to push emotions aside and tackle the problems at hand.

However, the worries continued to chase him long after the danger was over. And they always caught him in the end, usually within his subconscious. Trapped within his own mind as one was while they dreamt, the poor man was unable to escape. There was no where else to go.

Settling herself on a stool by his bedside, she watched and felt for him.

 

 _"They never notice you, do they? Never see you in the corner there, watching and analyzing the situation. Never notice that it's your quiet, rational presence that fuels us. Gives us all a foundation to lean on, gives us all strength..."_

 

Sweat glistened on his brow as his head began to jerk from side to side, his eyes screwed up tight. It became too much for her to bear and she finally reached for him. As she rested her palm against his forehead, she was relieved to see his face relax slightly. She stroked back his bangs and made soft, meaningless sounds of comfort, her face leaned close to his.

As his breathing gradually slowed and his twitching ceased, she found herself humming softly. A tune she didn't realize she knew... alien and haunting, yet soothing all the same. She briefly wondered what planet it came from, before deciding it really didn't matter.

When he was finally at peace, she gently released his brow and took his hand lightly. She felt pressure against her skin as she did, his fingers tightening against hers.

 

 _"You're the strongest of us all, Barbara."_


	3. What is Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To dispel any confusion, this fic is set within the continuity of David Whitaker's "The Daleks" novelization, which features some variations to Ian and Barbara's characters and background in relation to their TV counterparts.

I felt her eyes follow me as I paced on the light orange sand and squinted my eyes under the harshness of the daytime sky. I was in a good mood, fully relaxed. The ship had landed not far from the shore of a vast, blue ocean. It was a very pleasant view.

I had never seen a planet so bright. It was a sharp contrast from Skaro, whose landscape was desolate, dead and uninviting. But here vegetation thrived and the air was clean and fresh. After our previous experiences, I surprised myself with the realization that I actually hoped the Doctor was in an inquisitive mood. I wouldn't mind exploring.

Barbara was unusually quiet, watching me as I calmly strolled upon the landscape surrounding _Tardis._ She hadn't spoken a word since we landed. The Doctor wanted to provide us with a rest after our fierce battle with the Daleks and thus strived to attempt landing in a peaceful location.

Shockingly, he seemed to have succeeded.

"It's so different from Earth. Almost makes you feel melancholy, doesn't it?" Barbara's voice. She had been silent for so long, the abrupt comment startled me.

"I wasn't feeling melancholy at all", I replied. I drank in the sight of the ocean for a few more moments before turning to face her. "What made you say that? Feeling home-sick?"

"No, not really. Isn't that odd?" She bent down, the edge of her knee-length skirt brushing against the sand. She began shifting orange grains through her fingers absently as she continued. "I feel so content with our decision to stay with the Doctor and Susan. Which is what makes it so frightening…"

"Makes what so frightening?" I had no idea what she was driving at.

"Don't you feel yourself questioning reality, Ian?" She turned her attention from the sand in her fingers and looked at me directly. "It seems as if this reality; this broad, new universe is so… so real. More real than Earth, more real than our old lives. It feels as if I have awaken from a life-long dream."

I saw a sad, almost guilty look in her eyes and suddenly realized what was troubling her. "You're afraid you'll forget?"

She nodded, her eyes drifting away from me to the ocean. "The more days that pass, the more distant my memories of home feel. I don't want to forget my heritage, Ian. I don't want to forget that I'm human. Yet every day, I feel it's slipping further and further away…" To my surprise, she started trembling.

Her words stirred sudden thoughts of home in my mind. Of simple things I may never do or see again: having a drink in the pub, quietly smoking a cigarette and contemplating on the walkway in front of my flat, the smell of fuel, the sound of traffic…

The more I thought about it, the more dream-like it _did_ feel. Almost like events that happened in a book I read or a film I've seen. Not a reality that I had lived a mere few days ago.

Several moments passed in silence before I reached out and touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Then it's good that we're in this together, eh?" I said softly. "I won't let you forget Earth, Barbara. But you must help me remember too."

She smiled and softly covered my hand with her own.

"I will".


	4. Bad Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entry for the first Ian/Barbara ficathon on LiveJournal. Written for Doyle, who requested wine, a location other than 1960s Earth, set during the month in the villa in "The Romans".

Ian decided to just put it down to temporary insanity.

Barbara had a hand clutched firmly under his arm and a bemused smile on her face as she helped him stumble clumsily through the corridors of the sunny Roman villa.

"That," she began, "was definitely not one of your best ideas." The smile hadn't left her face and Ian had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't going to anytime soon. She was enjoying this far too much.

"Temporary insanity," he said, speaking his initial thoughts aloud. He concentrated on making his speech coherent and more or less succeeded, though his words were slightly more slurred than he would have liked. "We've all been idle for too long. Makes us do something raving mad just to break the monotony."

"Makes _you_ do something raving mad, you mean. I can control myself, thank you very much," she laughed.

"That's because you're always in control," he quipped back teasing. The intended barb probably would have had a better effect if his feet hadn't chosen that moment to tangle themselves together. He pitched forward sharply and would have hit the floor face first if Barbara hadn't caught him at the last second.

"All right, that's enough," she lectured, her voice suddenly all business. "You obviously can't handle talking and walking at once. Not one more word out of you until you're tucked up in bed, agreed?"

\--

It had started out simply enough. It started out with Ian being incredibly bored.

In hindsight, Ian realized it was really his own fault. He hadn't kept himself as active in the villa as everyone else.

Barbara had busied herself with cooking and daily visits to the market. Vicki usually accompanied her, eager to for any chance to explore outside the villa. The Doctor split his time between studying the surrounding plant life and Roman artifacts (though they had to keep reminding him to keep his anachronistic spectacles out of sight, so as not to arouse any unwanted attention), educating Vicki and getting into intense historical debates with Barbara.

And Ian - when he wasn't occasionally helping Barbara with supper or being lectured by the Doctor — just slept. Self absorbed and lazy probably, but during their adventures he was the one who usually expended the most physical energy… so the others graciously turned a blind eye and just left him to it.

Though after a few weeks, the inactivity was finally catching up to him. He found himself getting a bit stir-crazy, looking around for anything to break the status quo.

Challenging the Doctor to a wine-drinking contest, however, was probably not the best way to achieve this.

\--

"Goodness, I don't think I've ever seen you this bad," Barbara remarked as Ian all but crashed onto the couch in his adopted bedroom.

"How was I supposed to know that he'd drink me right under the table?" Ian mumbled, face buried in the couch and voice still laced with inebriation.

Barbara smirked. "Well, that's what you get for playing drinking games with someone of alien origin. For all we know, alcohol doesn't have any effect on him at all."

Ian groaned in response. "That doesn't help, you know."

She giggled in spite of herself. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. You just lay there and try to sleep it off. I'll get you some water and set it beside your bed, you might need it."

"Thank you."

She chuckled once more and leaned over the couch, planting a brief kiss on the top of his head. "Goodnight, you silly man."

With that, she made her exit and left Ian to his torment. Though Ian knew well enough from experience that he wasn't ever, _ever_ going to hear the end of this.


End file.
